Rainbow Balloons
by Just An Inkling
Summary: There are secrets that are kept for the safety of others, and there are secrets that, if kept, can tear us apart. Rated T for violence, language, hallucinogenic episodes, and emotional trauma. On official hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

Yeah, I'm a fan of the Gallagher Girls series. Not so much the first one, but as they got more serious in the third and fourth ones, they got pretty good.

Anyway. This is fanfiction, obviously I don't own, yada yada yada. This thing is dark, and it will probably wind up ending very half-assedly, but I don't care. What I've written is fun.

**Summary: **Cameron Morgan left the Gallagher Academy, her family, and Zach for a reason. A good reason, too, if you wanted her opinion. But can a tragic failure on a mission, a psychological breakdown, and a hallucinogenic trip down memory lane force her to confront the past she swore never to revisit?

**Rating:** T for Teen, due to language, violence, hallucinogenic episodes, and heavy emotional trauma. Rating may go up to M later.

**

* * *

Rainbow Balloons**

Cameron Morgan had been a sniper for a long time.

She wasn't afraid of blood, or cameras, or family members sitting next to her target. No, she'd been too well trained for that.

She made impossible shots. Across blocks of busy streets, into crowds of people, always hitting the mark without any unnecessary fatalities. She'd been too well trained to make that kind of mistake.

Cameron Morgan had been a sniper for a long time.

She had assassinated environmental terrorists, corrupt politicians, mob leaders, kidnappers, pirates. Her partners estimated she'd changed the course of history on more than one occasion-she smiled secretively and denied any and all allegations on the subject.

She had saved hostages, rescued diplomats, undermined military regimes, liberated innocents from extortion, righted wrongs of massive proportions. There was no mission too risky, no victim too unimportant to help. Luka always said she was going to get killed one day, or worse.

And then, one day, the worst happened. And eight years of everything came flooding down from behind the dam she'd built.

-x-x-x-

The wind bit into his shoulders. He leaned into the gusts blowing into the passenger compartment of the helicopter and readjusted his grip on the bar running around the space.

"Extraction, ready and watching," he muttered into the microphone clipped to the collar of his t-shirt.

"Fallback, good to go," a French accent cooed delicately over the connection.

"Bomb squad, good for launch."

"Control Tower's up and running. Let's do this, people."

He raised a pair of night vision binoculars and squinted at the ground, the blades of the helicopter beating over his head.

Seven hundred feet below him, Cammie slipped one toe into the rusting chain links of the fence surrounding the facility, testing the stability. The foothold stayed stable-she slipped three gloved fingers into the links over her head and pulled.

"Cammie, where are you," a voice sang in her earpiece. "The party's about to start."

"Luka, shut up," she grunted, pulling herself to the top of the fence.

"Well, no need to grouch," he muttered, feigning hurt. "Just didn't want you to miss the fun, is all."

"You're sick, mon cher," Plan B accused sweetly.

"Love you too, moya kukla," Luka gushed.

"Shut it, you two," Control Tower admonished. "Bickering can resume once everyone's back at HQ."

"Oui, maman," Plan B muttered.

"Excuse me."

Luka snickered.

"You too, Red."

Cammie rolled her eyes and picked her way through the razor wire topping the perimeter of the grounds. "You two are so immature."

"But our success rate kicks ass, so no one cares," Luka retorted.

"Good point." Cammie dropped to the ground on the other side of the fence. "I'm in."

"Yo, CT, count it down."

"We're ready? Okay."

Cammie crouched, her toes digging into the soft volcanic dirt.

"In five...four...three...two...go!"

Launching away from the fence, she flipped across the tripwires and sprinted to the shadows of the massive stone guard tower. "Luka," she whispered into her headset.

"Got it. Next move."

Cammie crept along the side of the wall to a steel door. Pressing her ear to the crack between the wall and the door, she heard muffled voices in the distance. Pushing her hair out of her face, she reached into the pocket on the inside of her boot and pinched a thin silver wire.

"Ca-am," Luka sang in her ear. "You're missing all the fun, love."

"I'm trying," she hissed. "I'm probably going to have a party all my own, here in a minute."

"Oh, fun, want me to join you?"

"No, hang out with your people." Cammie slipped the wire into the lock and twisted it. "Hello," she whispered as the door swung inward.

A guard stood with his back to her, talking into a radio in what sounded to her ears like Czech. She sighed-I hate singles combat, she groused to herself, creeping up behind him. "Řekněme, že na dobrou noc," she muttered in his ear, one hand slipping up to the back of his head, the other around to the space just above his collarbone.

The quiet snap seemed to echo down the hallway like a muffled gunshot.

"I lied, Luka-just me and a friend down here, not much of a party," she said, letting the guard's body drop to the floor and her voice return to some semblance of a normal volume.

"Really? It's a heroin-fueled rave up here. Bodies hitting the floor left and right. You want some of this?"

Cammie sauntered down the hallway, tracking cameras out of the corner of her eye. "No, just keep everybody occupied. I'll get the minister's kids and let you know when I'm out."

"I'll meet-"

"No. Absolutely not."

Luka-and everyone else tuned into the comm link-was silent.

"I'll explain when we get back to HQ."

"You better," he sighed, "because I sure as hell am not getting it now."

"Cammie, do not make us pull you out," Control Tower warned. "I swear to you, if you pull another stunt like Moscow, you will be permanently assigned to lab duty. So help me, God."

Cammie smiled at her partners' worry and turned off her comm unit.

* * *

Well. That was relatively boring, but I'm just getting started.

Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, so a little background about me: My previous fandom was kind of on its last legs when I left, and no one reviewed anything because pretty much nothing was worth reviewing. So, I come to the Gallagher Girls archives, expecting the same chilly reception, because people are people and I've learned not to get my hopes about anything. (WeAreAllALittleBizzare2014 does not get to say _anything_, thank you very much.) Anyway, I'm expecting maybe one or two reviews when I post this, because somewhere deep down, I still hope for recognition, yada yada yada, blah blah blah, enough of that.

BUT I TOTALLY WASN'T EXPECTING 11 REVIEWS ON _MY FREAKING PROLOGUE_. D:

You guys are too much. But seriously. Thanks. A shit-ton.

**Summary: **Cameron Morgan left the Gallagher Academy, her family, and Zach for a reason. A good reason, too, if you wanted her opinion. But can a tragic failure on a mission, a psychological breakdown, and a hallucinogenic trip down memory lane force her to confront the past she swore never to revisit?

**Rating:** T for Teen, due to language, violence, hallucinogenic episodes, and heavy emotional trauma. Rating may go up to M later.

* * *

**Rainbow Balloons**

Snow swirled around Zach's headlights as he pulled through the wrought iron gates of the academy. "Home sweet home," he announced to the four adults in the backseat of the SUV.

"I'd forgotten how much I missed this place," Macey mumbled, staring out the window as they pulled through the snow covered drive. "Hasn't changed at all, has it?"

"Liz says they've beefed up security around the West Wing," Grant supplied helpfully. "New pressure sensors in the floor, fingerprint recognition locks on all of the dorm room doors. After Cammie—"

"Don't," Bex said quietly from the passenger seat, arms folded tightly over her chest. "Do not talk about Cammie right now. Especially not like that."

Zach took a deep breath and pulled up to the front door of the mansion-turned-school. "We're here," he said, effectively cutting off an argument.

Wordlessly, Macey unbuckled her seatbelt and pushed open the door. A blast of icy air swept into the space she vacated—Grant suppressed a shiver and quickly followed suit, eager to get inside.

Turning the key, Zach slipped the keys to the government-issue SUV into his pocket and laid his hand on the door latch. He sighed and pushed it open, unbuckling his seatbelt and not bothering to pull his jacket tighter against the cold. If he could handle eight months in the Siberian wilderness, he could definitely brave two minutes in a Virginia winter storm.

Jonas waited until the others were on the steps and laid his hand on Zach's arm as he passed. "Are you okay?"

Zach shook his head. "No, I'm not," he muttered, watching Grant hold the door open for Macey. "I haven't been here since Cammie left."

Jonas squeezed his arm reassuringly. "If you need out, let me know. Excuses are my specialty."

Zach offered a weak smile and nodded. "Yeah, thanks. I owe you."

"Nah, consider it me paying you back for Buenos Aires."

"Come on, you two," Bex called, holding open the door for them. "Get your arses inside! It's _freezing__!_"

-x-x-x-

The steel door waited at the end of the hallway—Cammie was briefly reminded of the door to her mother's office on those nights when she'd been caught out past curfew. She shook her head to clear the thought and forged ahead, soft soled boots padding noiselessly on the concrete floor.

Her hand found the knob—it turned smoothly, releasing the door inward. _Unlocked...__?_ She frowned, tensing.

"Cammie," a voice simpered. "It's _so_ good to see you again."

Forcing her shoulders to relax, Cammie smiled warmly and took a step into the room. "Likewise, Mrs. Goode," she replied, taking in her surroundings. "Although, this does seem like a bit much, just to get my attention. A simple phone call would have sufficed."

The woman's smile soured, but didn't drop off.

Two children sat tied to chairs, staring at her in total panic. "It's okay, I'm one of the good guys," she whispered, moving closer to them.

"Questionable," she scoffed, fingering a manila file on the table. "You've killed seventy six people in the eight years you have been out of school. If that constitutes being a—" she chuckled for effect—"good guy, than—"

"Shut up," Cammie snapped. "How many _innocents_ have you and the Circle of Caven killed? Answer me _that_."

"Oh, Cameron. You misunderstand me-they were in the way, dear. Justified losses."

Cammie had to restrain herself from lunging at the woman. "Regardless of the death count, what exactly do you hope to gain by kidnapping these two lovely children? Totally dissolve the friendship between the US and Germany?"

Mrs. Goode smiled, the temperature in the already cold room dropping a few degrees. "To arrange a meeting with you."

_Not good_, was Cammie's first thought. Her second thought was something along the lines of _Turn on the damn comm link, look like your scratching your ear, call in back up_, but between wherever thoughts originate and whatever receives them, the message was jumbled into an alphabet soup of discordant syllables. Outwardly, she stood still, not daring to move lest something happen to the children.

"I think you know what I want to speak about, dear," the woman said sweetly, walking around the table she'd been hiding behind. "Where have you stashed that lovely little field journal of your father's?"

"You know, I don't really remember," Cammie said conversationally, reaching up to scratch her ear. Her nail flicked the tiny switch on her comm link, sending a flurry of voices into her concentration.

_"Cammie! What the hell are you doing?"_

_"Cam, are you okay? Have you gotten in?"_

_"What's going on? Are the kids alright? No one's dead?"_

_"Cameron, talk to me. Now."_

Cammie ignored them all in favor of staring at the woman now leaning casually against the edge of the table, resting the heels of her hands against the table top and crossing one ankle over the other. Against her will, the younger woman was struck with the sudden realization that the pose was much too similar to Rachel Morgan's favorite interrogation pose to be a coincidence.

"How's my mom?"

"Heartbroken," Mrs. Goode answered without missing a beat. "And who can blame the woman," she lamented, "after losing her _only daughter_. Her pride and joy. Her sunshine." The woman gestured to the captive children-a boy and a girl, both blonde, both young, both terrified. "Much like the mother of this darling duo when she finds out what happened."

As if on cue (and knowing the Circle of Caven, it probably was), a young man in army greens stepped forward, holding two six-shooter pistols. _Antique_, Cammie thought, watching them raise-and stop, one barrel resting against each child's head.

Time slowed down. Cammie dove at the pistol-bearing man, he pulled the triggers.

_"No..."_

* * *

Well. Who saw that coming. (Raise your hand, of course you did. It was obvious.)

Please review.


	3. Chapter 3

I had a complaint about length on the last chapter. Let me explain really quick: There is a reason things are short right now. One, I like cliff hangers at the beginning of a story. They keep people interested. Two, I'm setting things up. I'm just getting warmed up, explaining what's going on and who's who. Which is important, because I use like, nine OCs in this story to varying degrees of activity. Think of it as a first date-you're just getting to know each other for now. Like, one or two more short chapters, and then crap starts happening for real. Bear with me guys. I know what I'm doing.

PS: I'm making up the last names for the boys (Jonas and Grant). If I'm wrong and you happen to know the correct last names, leave me alone. This is fiction, and more importantly _fan_fiction. I'll make them up however I want to make them up.

**Summary: **Cameron Morgan left the Gallagher Academy, her family, and Zach for a reason. A good reason, too, if you wanted her opinion. But can a tragic failure on a mission, a psychological breakdown, and a hallucinogenic trip down memory lane force her to confront the past she swore never to revisit?

**Rating:** T for Teen, due to language, violence, hallucinogenic episodes, and heavy emotional trauma. Rating may go up to M later.

* * *

**Rainbow Balloons**

Liz was waiting in the Headmistress's office, box of chow main in one hand, chopsticks poised in the other, and a manila folder spread out on her lap. Jonas smiled and started to creep up behind her on the couch.

"Jonas Abbott, do not even dare."

He let his arms fall back to his side. "Was I really that obvious?"

"No, but I'm God," Liz countered seriously, not bothering to turn around.

Grant snickered and followed Macey into the room. "Hi, God."

Liz turned around at that, smiling beatifically at the new arrivals. "Hi, guys. How was the trip?"

"Long. Very long," Macey complained, bending down next to Liz to plant a kiss to her forehead. She flipped the folder closed and whisked it behind her back. "No work at a reunion party, dear. It's bad form."

Liz made a weak grab at the file. "Aw, come on. You didn't have to _take _it."

"Yeah, we kind of did," Bex said, pulling Liz out of her chair and hugging her tightly. Liz squeaked but took it anyway.

"Missed you too," she muttered once the British agent relaxed her grip.

Bex held Liz at arm's length and looked her over. "I like the glasses," she pronounced finally, nodding in firm approval. "Very funky. Very you."

Liz reached up to touch the thick arms of her glasses. They sported an electric blue sunburst pattern cut out of the metal, and wrapped all the way around the lenses like goggles. "Thanks. They're pretty knew," she said with a shy grin.

"Hi guys," Rachel Morgan called into the office from a room normally hidden behind a bookcase. "I'll be in there in a second."

"Take your time," Jonas called back, glancing at Zach. The other boy had found his way into the corner of the room, arms folded over his chest and eyes fixed on the window. Jonas stepped back against the wall and studied Zach. _You okay_, he mouthed.

Zach gave a terse nod and glanced at the door. _I'm fine_, he mouthed back, offering a slight smile to reassure his friend. Jonas nodded and turned back to the gathering, not entirely convinced.

Rachel surfaced from the back room, the bookshelf sliding into place behind her. "Hi everyone," she said, offering a slightly breathless smile to the collection of young adults in the room. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a thick turtleneck sweater, she looked more casual than possibly anyone present had seen her, but just as broken hearted as they remembered.

"Hi, Mrs. Morgan," Grant said, stepping forward with an expression a tad too solemn for a Christmas gathering. "Thanks for inviting us all."

"Oh, don't mention it," she said dismissively, busying herself straightening her already spotless desk. "It would've been Liz, Joe, and I all by our lonesomes here otherwise." She turned back to him and smiled, her eyes looking a little damp at the corners. "We're all very glad you could make it."

"Sorry I'm late," a voice said from the doorway. "Just making one last pass through Level Three."

Zach smiled and pushed out of the corner. "Hey, Mr. Solomon."

Joe grinned and shook his head. "Zach, you're twenty three. I'm almost fifty. Call me Joe." He gripped Zach's hand and pulled him into a rough hug. Quietly, he asked, "You doing alright, kid?"

"Just fine."

"We'll talk about lying to your mentor later," Joe promised seriously, releasing him and turning to Rachel. "Take out here yet?"

"Just got here," Liz answered, holding up her carton of chow mein. "The delivery kid said it was the biggest order he'd ever delivered on his moped."

"Hope he didn't get caught in the blizzard," Macey said, crossing her arms. "Chefs have Christmas off?"

"Liz talked me into it," Rachel admitted, rifling through one of three brown paper bags sitting on and around one of the chairs. "Aha. Mongolian beef," she exclaimed, pulling out a carton and a pair of chopsticks. She retreated behind her desk, opening the box and pulling apart her chopsticks. "Well, go on. Dig in, everybody," she said, waving everyone towards the bags. "There's something for everyone in there."

-x-x-x-

Cammie pushed her hands against her eyes and took a series of deep breaths, trying to focus on the whir of the helicopter blades over her head. "I've lost people before, this is nothing new. I've lost people before, this is nothing new. I've lost people before, this is nothing new," she repeated under her breath. Never had a mission failure affected her so badly.

Eight fingertips pressed gently against her forearms. Slowly, they slid up to her wrists and snaked around, pulling her hands away from her face. A pale face appeared over her fingers, a navy blue beret perched atop a cloud of cinnamon curls. "Cammie," the young woman said gently, her French accent somehow working its way into Cammie's troubled soul like a deep tissue massage. "Cammie, look at me, sîl tu plait."

Cammie tried to pull her hands back to her face, but the girl's grip held strong. "Go away," she moaned, struggling not to cry. "Zoé, go away."

Zoé Desmond didn't let go of her friend's wrists, but moved to sit next to her on the helicopter's bench. "Cameron, look at me," she demanded quietly. "This was not your fault-far from it. I know you think it was, but it was_ not_, do you understand?"

"They were so young," Cammie whispered despondently. "She was six..."

Wordlessly, Zoé let go of one of Cammie's wrists and placed her hand on the side of Cammie's head, pushing it towards her own heart. She glanced at the other occupants of the helicopter-Luka was dutifully staring at his scuffed combat boots, arms crossed firmly over his chest, probably feeling responsible in some abstract way; Freddie was fiddling with deactivating live charges, upset that her handiwork wasn't used at all; Ben was clicking rapidly on his laptop, completing a report to upload back at base while the damage was still fresh. The other two were hidden away in the cockpit, where she couldn't see them. She'd check in with them later, probably. They were the last on her list, anyway-they hadn't been on the ground for the fallout.

Suddenly, Luka stood, rubbing his neck and looking uncharacteristically solemn. He crossed the compartment in four of his loping strides, taking a seat on Cammie's other side. One hand found Cammie's shoulder blades, rubbing absentminded circles.

Without a word, Cammie pulled away from Zoé and pushed her face into Luka's pullover, her shoulders heaving with each breath. The French native sighed in bittersweet contentment-at least she was crying. Things would run their course, it would be fine. She nodded at Luka and stood, moving over to Freddie.

For a long few minutes, Luka rubbed Cammie's shoulders and let her cry. She'd been hit hard, that much he knew. Even before the catastrophic failure, something had been off. He didn't know what, and he didn't know how far back it went, but he knew better than to ask. Cammie's file was Level 8 security back at HQ for a reason, after all.

Cammie's legs pulled up on the bench and her head slipped down from Luka's chest. He shifted and positioned her head on his thigh, aimlessly stroking his partner's hair. Every now and then, she hiccuped or sniffed sullenly, but for the most part, the sobs had passed. "You'll be okay," he whispered, more to himself than to her.

_"Ladies and gents, bundle back up. We're almost home."_

* * *

Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

This is very little very late, but at least it's something. I just transferred the story to my Google Docs account, so it should be easier to work on, and therefore updated more often. Here's hoping, right?

**Summary: **Cameron Morgan left the Gallagher Academy, her family, and Zach for a reason. A good reason, too, if you wanted her opinion. But can a tragic failure on a mission, a psychological breakdown, and a hallucinogenic trip down memory lane force her to confront the past she swore never to revisit?

**Rating:** T for Teen, due to language, violence, hallucinogenic episodes, and heavy emotional trauma. Rating may go up to M later.

* * *

**Rainbow Balloons**

"Can I help?"

Sophia zipped the black first aid bag with a little more force than necessary and turned sharply to the twelve-year-old. "Didn't I tell you to go bug Zane," she asked pointedly.

Sun Li shrugged, leaning against the light green wall between two gurneys. Her hands were shoved in her pockets against the draft that blew in through the door to the roof. "He's gearing up for a psych eval," she said. "Why can't I help?"

"Because," Sophia snapped. "Where's Alexei?"

"I dunno," Sun Li said nonchalantly.

Sophia tugged her dark curls roughly into a ponytail holder. "Well go find him," she said, grabbing the thirty-pound first aid bag by the handles and dragging it to the door.

Sun Li huffed and pushed away from the wall. "Fine," she sighed, dodging gurneys and first aid carts to the elevator. She tugged on the metal gate and stepped into the industrial-size elevator box, sliding her keycard through the lock and pushing the button for the ground floor.

Of course Sun Li knew where Alexei was. She always knew where he was, even if she didn't always know or care what he was doing, or why. It was kind of her job to know-they were partners, after all, and on the rare occasions they did go into the field, they went in together. She had to know where he was at all times, in case something went wrong. It had become almost a sixth sense-her gut instinct told her where he was, even when it wasn't necessary that she know.

The elevator scraped to a stop on the ground floor, behind a wooden door that was significantly nicer to look at than the rusting metal gate on the top floor. Sun Li pushed the door open and wandered out into the back hallway, looking down the passages to the lobby, the security desk, the filing room.

The filing room, her sixth sense whispered in the back of her mind, urging her towards the unmarked door at the back end of the hall. She slid her card in the lock next to the door, ducking in through the sliver of an opening that she allowed the door to swing out.

A bluish light bathed the filing cabinets that held uselessly outdated contracts and garbage that was kept just for show. The computer in the corner, that held all the real information on a custom-built server equipped with a thumbprint lock, voice recognition codes, and a host of other security precautions, was flashing data on the screen in front of a boy in his early teens with reading glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose. "I thought you were bugging Sophia," he murmured, not bothering to turn around.

"She insisted I find you."

"Does that require you actually, physically, finding me?"

"No, but I wanted to see what you where up to. And she just wanted me out of her way."

"That's not nice," Alexei muttered without pity, his fingers doing a staccato tap-dance on the hyper-sensitive fingerprint-recognizing keyboard. "Is Cammie about home?"

Sun Li leaned against the desk, playing with the end of her thigh-length braid. "Should be. Sophia was dragging the first aid bag out when I left."

"Did Cal call someone in?"

Letting go of the braid, Sun Li shook her head, feeling the rope of hair swing over her shoulders. She hadn't heard the driver call back to base to warn Sophia about any injuries. "She just said they were headed home. Nothing more."

"Mmm. Weird."

The Chinese girl peered over Alexei's shoulder, trying to read what he was doing until he swatted her away. "You know I hate it when you do that," he snipped, hitting a key code and spinning out of the desk chair to the printer across the room. "It's my pet peeve."

Sun Li rolled her eyes and skimmed the operative file he had been looking at before shutting down the server connection. "Cammie? I thought we'd both seen her file."

The boy swung mousy brown bangs out of his eyes and retrieved the last of a quarter-inch stack of papers from the printer, snapping a binder clip around it in a business like fashion. "No, we've only seen part of it. This has everything-psych evals, medical file, full service record, the whole thing."

"Jesus."

Alexei flipped through the file, scanning quickly. "Wow, this is some interesting stuff."

"Interesting good, or interesting bad?"

"Interesting interesting," Alexei said flatly, tucking the stack under his arm and taking a step towards the door. "You can have it when I'm done, as long as you're discreet with it. No breakfast reading."

"Yeah yeah," Sun Li said, quirking an eyebrow and crossing her arms. She took a deep breath and relaxed into an uncertain stance. "Hey, Alex?"

"Mmm?" Alexei stopped, hand on the doorknob.

"Zane's doing a psych eval in a little while, and... Do you think it's Cammie?"

Alexei's hand slid off the knob, lost in thought. "Maybe... She's been a little off lately, now that you mention it."

"Will she be okay?"

"Of course, with us around."

-x-x-x-

The down draft from the helicopter played havoc with Sophia's loose curls. She ducked into the doorway and watched it land on the fluorescent yellow circle painted on the roof. The doors slid open, and Freddie hopped out, ducking across the landing pad to the doorway. "Red's got Cammie," she said, slipping past Sophia and into the building.

The Jewish woman nodded absently, watching the helicopter blades spin to a stop before dashing to the door. Luka cradled his partner to his chest and nodded at Sophia. "She's fine," he said, adjusting Cammie's head on his shoulder. "Just exhausted."

"Sweet. Kids?"

"Lost 'em."

"Bummer, dude."

Sophia stepped back and watched Luka carry their comrade across the landing pad, internally reeling. Cameron Morgan didn't lose anyone without a damn good reason, and a mission involving kids would have been a fight to the death. What's going on, she wondered, totally bewildered.

Shaking her head, Sophia hopped into the helicopter and grabbed Ben's arm. "What happened," she demanded, now certain that her services as a medic weren't needed.

"We lost the kids," he said, clearly unwilling to offer up any more information.

"Damnit, Ben, I need detail!"

Ben pulled his arm roughly out of her grip and took a step towards the door. "You want detail? Fine. Cammie turned off her comm link. Cammie went in there alone. Cammie lost those kids. Cammie isn't stable."

Sophia stared at him, anger brewing between her lungs like molten jalapenos. "Benjamin Addie," she started, her voice steady and quiet and full of the promise of violence. "You are going to think back on what you just said, and you are going to apologize because clearly you're not thinking properly. None of us are remotely stable. If we were, we would have normal jobs, normal lives, normal relationships." Her voice softened and she took a small step towards him, just out of reach in case he lashed out at her like he'd been known to do in the past. "But it doesn't matter if we're not stable, because we function. Cammie functions, just like you, just like me. You might not understand her, but that's okay. The Boss knows her, and she trusts her, same as she trusts all of us. Would you have her not trust any of us, Ben? You and I both know you'd be sitting in prison if she didn't."

Ben relaxed, eyes lowered in shame. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, watching her feet take another cautious shuffle towards him. "I'm just... She scared me today. I love her like a sister, but I need to know that I can count on her all the time. And I'm not sure if I can."

Gently, Sophia slid her arm around his ribcage, pushing herself close to his heart in a bid to draw some of the worry and uncertainty he was feeling into her own consciousness. "I know, I know," she whispered, her other hand reaching for his, tangling their fingers together. "Let's just take this one step at a time, okay, Ben? Cammie obviously needs to recover. Zane can take a look at her, and you and him and the Boss can decide what needs to happen. If we keep her here for a few months, so be it. If this is a one time thing, she can go out. Let's not get ahead of ourselves, okay?"

Ben rested his chin on top of his fiance's head, his free hand coming up to rest on her opposite shoulder. "Okay," he exhaled, at peace for a moment with the situation. "Yeah, okay."

"Come on, you need breakfast," she said after a minute, disentangling herself from his embrace and pulling him out of the helicopter. "It's almost dawn and you've been out all night."

* * *

Please review.


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